A Series Of Interludes
by ELR
Summary: Why did Buffy look so heart broken when she stabbed Faith? Was it because of her actions, or was it something deeper? Takes place during season 3 and beyond. Buffy and Faith. COMPLETED. UPDATED
1. Just Breathe

**Just Breathe**

"We're not supposed to exist together." The voice ripped Buffy from her dreams, yanking her through the fug of sleep in a matter of seconds. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon as it drifted in through her open curtains.

And there she stood, leaning against the frame, arms folded across her chest, eyes cast to the stars floating above them. Buffy had no idea how she got in, and despite who she was, and what she'd done, she wasn't scared. Even though in her just woken state, in a fight, she'd loose. But she didn't speak. Something told her that she shouldn't.

"Two halves, one whole. Light and dark; you and me. I've never known why I'm so.. angry all the time. Couldn't figure it out." She turned slowly from the window, her eyes falling directly into Buffy's, trapping her there. "And then I met you."

She pushed away from the window, dropping her arms and trailing her fingers over the end of the bed as she walked past. But not looking away, not releasing Buffy from the swirling chocolate vortex that was her eyes. As they always had been to the blonde. Probably always would be.

"I did everything I could to leave you behind. I killed, I betrayed, I'm planning all your friends deaths but you know what?" she kicked off her boots and started to crawl up the bed, trapping Buffy between her legs as she knelt over her. "The last thing I still see before I sleep, and the first thing that comes to mind when I wake up?" she gently led down on top of Buffy, the comforter no barrier to mask the shape of her body, no protection against the scent of her skin. "Is your face."

In a move that would be remembered the next day as slowly never ending, she leaned down and gently pressed their lips together, begging entry into Buffy's mouth with the tip of her tongue, and deepening the kiss to passionate levels when she was granted access.

Their sighs and heavy breathing echoed long after Buffy had fallen into an emotionally and physically exhausted sleep, the scent of their love making lingering in the air, and staining the sheets beneath their entangled bodies.

When the sun rose the next morning, it fell through the open curtains and caused Buffy to be pulled gently from her deep and dreamless sleep. She looked to her side, across the empty expanse of bed and smiled a sad smile at the knowledge of what the empty bed meant.

That Faith had left her long before the sun came up.

Again.


	2. Forfeit

**Forfeit**

She stood at her open bedroom window, the light breeze playing with the collar on her robe, as she starred at the street below. Earlier, that street had been alive. People walking the sidewalks, the sounds of children playing bouncing off the houses, cars as they swished down the roads. But now that street was dark, empty, lifeless. No sounds of children ever entered the air this far past the witching hour.

The bed clothes rustled behind her, and she flickered her gaze backwards to see Faith now fully dressed, leaning over to put on her boots. Even just the sight of her back awoke illicit feelings in Buffy, tremors of memories as they wove across her skin.

"You always leave." Her words froze the brunette for a moment, before she carried on her task.

"The sun's coming."

"I know."

For a moment Faith just gripped the edge of the bed, her fingers curling into the bed clothes as she took a deep breath in, in an attempt to steady herself. Because these meetings always brought the same feelings screaming forward in her, as they did in Buffy. She pulled herself from the bed that had, not 20 minutes ago, witnessed the acts that the pair could never bring into the light.

Her arms curled around Buffy's waist from behind, her chin resting on her shoulder and her fingers finding the blonde's as if they were always supposed to.

"I have to go."

"I know."

"No one can ever find out about this. My life'll be forfeit if he ever knew." Buffy tightened her hold on Faith's hands, a sigh ripping its way from her throat and causing the taller girl to lean down and press her lips to the bare skin she found there.

"Why do you keep coming back?" The brunette pulled herself from Buffy gently, grabbing her jacket and quickly tugging it over her arms before moving to the blonde once more. She took hold of her shoulders and turned her from the window, forcing Buffy to look at her before granting her a soft, yet endlessly sad smile.

"Why do you keep letting me come back?" The words were whispered, carried over the almost still air to Buffy, before she leaned in and pressed a kiss delicately to the smaller slayers lips.

She climbed out of the window and dropped to the ground without ever looking back. Shrugging into the persona that the mayor expected of her, she blended into the fast fading shadows and disappeared from view.

She never saw the delicate tear, as it broke free and silently ran down Buffy's face.


	3. Ditto

**Ditto**

The beach party had ended long ago, her friends taking their laughter with them, but she remained. Sat on her blanket and watching the horizon as the fire had died down from roaring flames to gently crackling ambers. And she waited.

Watched as the stars reflected slivers of light upon that horizon, watched in rapt fascination as the tails of far off dolphins broke the surface of the water and disappeared from sight again.

It was about an hour before the sun came up that Buffy felt her. A washing tingle as it crested her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. She knew she would find her here, like she knew that the sun would always rise over that distant horizon again.

"I couldn't find you." Her voice broke the silence like a bat would shatter a pane of glass. It startled Buffy, making her jump slightly, but she didn't take her eyes off the calming waves. "I looked everywhere but I remembered you liked the beach."

"You could always find me. Wherever I was." She held out her hand to the brunette, knowing exactly why she was looked for so hard. Not for the bite of pleasure that their meetings had always brought them, but the taste of sweet release that being with Buffy, if even in a forbidden manner, gave to her.

Their meetings, well into the darkened hours and hidden in the silence of the shadows, held no riddles for Faith. In the short spaces of time she was granted with the little blonde she didn't have to pretend to hate her, didn't have to mask who she was with the colors of violence that the mayor expected from her

With Buffy she could just be.

The soft warmth of Faith's hand tickled the palm of the little blonde, the warmth of her body sitting next to her, pressing into Buffy's side. The comforting weight of their silence wrapping around Buffy, holding her, making her feel more human.

It was in the silence of the next hour that Buffy realised something she hadn't known before. It was as the very top of the sun started to peek above the horizon and Faith rose to leave, that her mouth moved without full consent of the brain.

"Ditto." That single word froze Faith in her tracks, causing her breathe to catch in her throat. _She couldn't have meant what she did with that one little word, could she?_

"What?" She turned on the sand, watching the breeze play with the hair on the back of Buffy's head, watching as the blonde sighed deeply in the back of her throat. But never taking her eyes from that golden horizon.

"I know it doesn't change anything. I know it won't make you stay. But if you're gonna keep coming back, I just thought you should know." Faith stayed there for the longest time, watching the play of freshly broken light play across the curves of Buffy's body. It was a long time until she said anything, or moved at all.

"Thank you." A soft breathe carried on the wind as Buffy heard Faith walking away, the sound of the sand as it crunched beneath her feet bringing with it a pain that started in her chest, and slowly worked its way through her body.

The only thing that moved in the early morning light was the freshly broken tear, as it ran slowly down the blondes face, dropping to the sand, and forever leaving her pain written across the beach.


	4. Into Exile

**Into Exile**

The beach was silent, and while the sun had yet to begin it's assent into the sky, she could still smell it's slow burn, as it trailed towards the horizon. It brought with it the light, its rays an attempt to wash the land clean of the darkness that had swallowed it whole for a while, to purge the sea of ink from the roads and streets, to light the people with a sense of hope.

Faith stood there on the sand, looking out over the gently cresting waves as they came up and broke onto the sand, disappearing back into the ocean's depths with a hissing froth. Small trails of swallowed sand cascaded behind the few rocks and shells that littered the waters edge as it was dragged away with the water, and she could see a number of sand worms squirming just beneath the grainy surface.

She folded her arms over her chest, lifting her head up and breathing in a deep lungful of salty air, as a gust of wind blew in from the water. It blew her hair back over her shoulders freeing her neck from the slightly stifling feel of her brunette main always sitting against the delicate skin there. She'd tie it back, but she always lost those little elastic hair things, and those clips to keep stray strands from flicking in her view. It was too much bother, seem as though she could simply catch the tresses and fold them behind her ears, away from annoying her pale features, but still protecting the deep, flickering pulse at the base of her neck.

She hadn't been on the beach for weeks, her time being too filled with assignments for her new boss. Running this offering to this demon and taking care of that one so it would never speak. Of finally being found out by Buffy and the super friends and moving out of that fleabag motel on the edge of town. Too filled with the thoughts of her betrayal, one she knew would now never be forgiven lightly, and yet somewhere inside of her, there was still a small spark of hope. 

Lifting her arms up, she pulled off her t-shirt and dropped it to the sand, kicking off her boots and socks as she reached for the zipper of her jeans. She'd walked here thousands of times since she'd come to Sunnydale. Something about the ocean just pulsating on the sand that called to her. Her steps were slow and easy, a natural calm falling over her as her feet landed in the blistering cold of the water. But she didn't stop until she was knee deep in it, feeling the cool water drifting and ebbing against her calves and small pieces of seaweed as they tickled past her legs.

A soft shiver ran up her body, a slight adjustment internally to the cold she was now feeling and she could feel the cold slowly seeping out of her body, or at least her being aware of it. She'd always been fascinated by her ability to change her body's temperature at will, even as she felt the heat draining out of her until she was no longer bothered by the ice water that surrounded her.

Only then did she continue into the water, watching with fascinated eyes as it creep up her knees, encasing her thighs and dousing her bikini shorts, turning the pale blue into a deep navy. She flickered her eyes away, off towards the horizon and wondered, briefly, if she could reach it today. She hadn't last time, but the swim had done her good. As if the current just beneath her exercising body was slowly pulling away all the black thoughts that crowded her head, stole away the memories of the life she had came from, and the place she was born into.

It swiftly removed the hunger of her bloodlust, and the slightly crazy feeling at the back of her mind. It took away the pain and the rage, the hate and the disgust at herself. It left nothing but a feeling of freedom, a small amount of peace from her rolling thoughts. In the ocean, she was just Faith, just a girl, with nothing more important on her mind other than what the time was. And even that didn't matter out here.

She dived head first into the water, opening her eyes as she went underneath a small wave and looking out into the murky green wash that started just twenty feet in front of her. A small fish darted past her face as she came to a stop and hovered there. If you were still long enough, the fish here would come right up to you, as if wondering what you are. Or maybe asking you your name, greeting you perhaps. 

But today she couldn't just hover there, smiling gently as those little colorful fish came up to her face and her body. Today she felt a need inside of her so deep, a pull of longing to swim, as far and as fast as her limbs would take here. Far out and away from the shore of a world that really didn't want her, of people that hated her and of nothing really that important anyway.

Breaking the surface of the water, she took in a huge lungful of air, spitting some salty liquid out of her mouth and brushing the hair back off her face. And then she swam. Long, languid strokes of her arms, pulling her forward, the kicking of her legs pushing her further away from the beach behind her. She loved the feel of the water as it rushed through her yanking fingers, of the slight tickle of salt as it ran over the length of her body and off the ends of her toes.

The faster she swam, the further she got, and the further she got, the less she hurt. The pain that sat deep inside of her chest started to wash away with the tide, the shadows that constantly danced over her soul receded to a place so deep inside of her, she wouldn't even go there herself. It felt as if the entire weight of the world was slowly being rinsed out of her, as if she were in the world's biggest washing machine.

After she'd swam for about 15 miles out, she pulled to a slow stop, beating her legs under the water to keep her head above it and once again pushed her hair out of her face, leveling her breathing out as she basically stood there in the water and looked out around her. The three sides she could see were bare and barren, empty of streets and roads and people, empty of everything but a vast space of.. nothing. Just water, and the sun as it started to peak above the horizon, it's rays hitting the gently moving water and shattering, sending prisms of rainbow filled light across its surface.

She hadn't noticed the passing of time while she swam and washed away the pain and rage that seemed ever present within her, hadn't realized that it was time for the sun to greet the earth again, or that she was supposed to be in a meeting at the mayors office at 8 o'clock.

She sighed, deeply against the pressure of water that was surrounding her chest and pulled in some air as she ducked beneath the water's surface again. But this time there was no bed of sand just a foot or so beneath her, there was nothing but a huge cavern of blackness, bordering on green, no tiny little fish to swim past her face and seem as if they actually wanted to say hello to her. There was nothing, a void and space below her of such utter darkness that it almost seemed to want to swallow her whole.

She wasn't scared though, because her own darkness had already closed in around her.

Breaking the surface again, she sighed and turned back towards the shore, but with every pull of her hands and kick of her legs, peace did not seem to greet her, or take away the black that wreathed itself around her soul in a network of spidery veins. But replace that which she'd only just seemed to get free of. With each mile that she passed, the anger once again started to build, the pain was becoming more that just a distant throb and more like a stinging stab in her side.

And she felt the weight, slowly pressing down on her shoulders, circling her chest and seemingly wanting to crush her alive. A heaviness to her body that had been circling her like sharks surround their prey for what seems like forever. Only, it hadn't been that long, and she could remember, quite clearly, a time when it wasn't there. 

The first meal that her and Buffy shared after killing Kakisto. In those few hours, there was nothing else surrounding them except a gentle camaraderie and the food they were sharing between them. They hardly spoke to each other, because at that point in time, no words would have mattered, or made any effect on either of them. 

Her foot brushed the bed of sand that was now beneath her and she stood up in the water, running her hands back over her face and over her hair, pushing a few droplets of water from her eyes as she walked towards the beach. She'd probably drifted a mile or so from where her clothes were, but that was all right. She needed a little time to re-adjust to the pressure circling her chest once again, to the sharp sting of rage that stabbed in white-hot bursts behind her eyes.

Pulling herself completely out of the water, she afford herself a soft smile as the sun washed over her skin, and the tips of her hair tickled the base of her back as she turned and walked towards the pin point of color, that she recognized as her clothing. She'd let her hair grow so long, not bothering to straighten it out anymore and just leaving it to cascade in gentle waves over her shoulders and down her back. She was going to have to cut it sooner or later, but right now she figured she could afford herself this one small and simple pleasure, in a life that was full of anger and hurt. 

Looking out towards the horizon she felt a soft yearning inside of her to be there, balancing on the edge of the world and feeling the sun as it attacked her pale skin, attempting to seep past her healing powers and afford her the soft brush of a tan across her skin. But it never helped; she was always this color, even the sun not being strong enough to penetrate her defenses. It seemed that while she loved the life of a slayer almost to the point of too much sometimes, that the power she had been granted also took away from her a lot more than it gave.

She couldn't go out for a little bit of fun with a normal human, their bodies too fragile to not break under her powerful grip and steely gaze. And the more they fought to get away from the physical pain that came with being with her, the more the slayer inside of her roared out in pleasure at it's own power. She was renown for having a loose grip on her self control as it was, but during the heat of passion, it was often that she couldn't control herself at all, using the strength she was given as a tool to hear her slayer calling out inside her mind at it's own greatness.

And it somehow seemed to amplify the demons inside of her. There was no longer this huge well of humanity to smother it all, to hide it away in a bad attitude and a surly demeanor. To have the slayer, some of that humanity needed to be stripped away, to make room inside a very mortal body, for a very immortal presence. And with the lose of that part of her, it also seemed to take away her ability to walk in the light and not get burned by it's brilliance.

By the time she'd reached her clothes, she was already dry, the baking sun having tried to slip through her defenses and to burn her, only served to warm her skin up once again, and turn her lips from blue back to the crimson tide they always were naturally. She yanked on her t-shirt, pulling free her main of untamed hair, before pulling her long legs into her jeans and dropping to her butt to sort out her footwear.

It was as she was fiddling with the laces on one of her boots that she felt it; a soft tingle that wafted over the hairs on the base of her neck, making them stand on end to the presence of someone further up on the beach, standing on the roads edge. A presence that her slayer called out to, yearned for, but could never have when the sun was hovering over that horizon.

Because if she turned around now, and looked at the person she could feel watching her, one of two things would happen; she would loose all control and run at her, ripping her to pieces, cursing her, screaming at her for what she'd done to the brunette. Or she would crumble. For the first time in a long, long time, she would fall to her knees and weep, clawing at her chest to try and relieve herself of some of this wrenched pain that was ever present in her, to beg for help, for forgiveness, for anything, irregardless of the daylight scorching the sand.

So instead, she pulled on her other sock, straightening the seam that ran over the toe of it, before tipping the sand out of her boot and pulling that on as well. As she messed with the laces and pulled them tight, she could feel a slow trail of goose bumps washing over her back, following the trail of sight that was being traced across her skin. She felt her muscles tense up to the point of snapping, with the effort to not turn around and see what her destiny would bring her: rage or pain.

After long moments, her taking far too long to finish with her laces, the tingle of the other slayer started to fade, freeing her of the muscles cramps she had started to feel in her shoulders and neck as she held herself steady. The hairs on the back of her neck relaxed and fell flat once again on her skin. She dropped the act, letting go of a breath she didn't even know she was holding in and dropped her head to her chest.

Buffy's presence was almost like an earthquake to Faith; rocking her to the very core with just a whisper of it's arrival, causing a rapid fire response of fight or flight to crash its way through her veins, filling her with adrenaline as she attempted to breathe the sudden panic out of her system.

But she had left, letting the brunette alone and removing herself from the situation. Faith's own words from one of the secret meetings, where she had seen the blonde, whispered through her mind; _'My life would be forfeit if he ever knew'_.

She sighed; lifting her head as she stood and reached into her pocket for the watch the mayor had recently given her. It was ten to eight, and she was going to be walking into that meeting far too late for her new bosses liking. And while a part of her quivered in fear at the thought, the rest of her didn't bother; too busy focusing on the other slayer to have the good sense to be scared.

The beach started to fill with people as she was making her way up the sand banks towards the road, little kids jumping around their parent's ankles as they cried out to go play in the water or build a sand castle. To get their dad's to play frisbee with them. She could hear a dog barking off in the distance and watched as a couple of runners jogged through the tips of the waters reach, splashing themselves in the cool water as they chatted. 

And for a second in time, the dark slayer froze, her eyes taking in the scenes of domesticity that were unfolding before her and suddenly found herself wondering what it felt like. To be loved, and cared for from birth as if it were always meant to be that way. The blackened part of her soul started to rise, wanting to choke all these people with their happiness and their not knowing what _her_ life felt like.

She shook herself, turning away from the beach and the strong pull of the ocean, towards the black town car that was waiting for her. The tall black man who drove it quickly folded his newspaper away and shoved it through the open drivers window, giving her a small smile as she slowly made her way towards him.

She could feel a few sets of eyes on her as she walked towards the open back door of the very smart Mercedes, as they took in the sleek and crisp lines of the drivers suit and of her, a teenager, sliding easily into the black depths of the rear seat.

As the engine of the car started, the phone to her right started to bleat, breaking the soft hum of silence that surrounded her and with it, shattering the gentle calm she'd some how managed to keep a hold of during her time on the beach.

She yanked the phone from its cradle and brought it to her ear. "Yeah boss, I'm on my way."

She reached into a compartment in front of her and pulled out a knife that looked like a flame, sliced into two and frozen in silver for all time. She twisted it this way and that, not bothering about people seeing her because of the blacked out windows, and listening to the mayor as he spoke to her.

"Yeah. Yeah boss, I can do that." The silver glint of the knife highlighted her face, as a fleeting expression of pain washed over her now preternaturally calm features.


	5. Irreversable Error

**Irreversible Error**

She was restless, the night air far too warm for her to be able to breathe properly, too dry against the delicate flesh of her throat. Her voice was low, husky when she bothered to speak. Only she rarely does. Being linked with the mayor had the added bonus of most people already knowing who you were, before you've fully stepped into the room.

She softly pulls on the shirt she only got today. All silk and red satin as it slithers against her skin, clinging to her as if it was created solely for her to wear, to own. The red sets off the little twinkling highlights of hazel in her eyes, makes her skin look more flawless and white, her hair a darker shade of raven. Running her fingertips over the hem of her new shirt, she smiles softly to herself. The creamy texture of the item soothing her skin, a cool balm on a humid and heated evening.

Her smile widens as she applies her eyeliner, her thoughts trickling back to earlier that day, when she walked into one of those shops that was always too posh and nice and clean and upper class for her to be in before. Only she's with the mayor now, and those girls, who often looked at her like she was the mud on their shoe, now looked at her as if she was the second coming. All smiles and fawning and far too much make-up for her liking. False. It was all false.

But if she closed her eyes, and thought real hard, it felt real. She could reach out and touch those pretentious girls, who looked and served her, never expecting to see her offer money or a credit card. It was all taken care of, she didn't have to worry about a thing.

Pursing her lips, she stepped away from the mirror, looking at herself objectively. Black leather pants, riding low over softly defined hips, red shirt clinging possessively to her shoulders and stomach and breasts. Hair loose and wild, looking tangled as always. She wondered, for a brief second, what she'd look like with it straight and shorter, like it used to be. But no, long and wild, match her outer self to her inner one.

She looked as if she could scorch; exactly how she wanted it. Be the fire on the outside, so no one would get burnt by the fire on the inside. She left her jacket on the bed, liking the feel of the balmy heat as it tickled her arms and neck, pressing it's heated fingers into the flesh of her lips and grazing her eyelids with it's warmth.

She chuckled as the mayor looked at her disapprovingly, telling her she should have worn something more appropriate, more lady like. She held back a snort at his assumption that she was a lady. If only he knew about the things she did, deep into the night and well past the witching hour. If he could possibly know the things she thought about, the things she fantasized about, in the harsh and cold blackness of early morning hours. He'd never call her a lady again.

Nothing to do, nowhere to go. No errands to run, no demons or people to kill. No tributes to perform, nothing to guard. She supposed she could always go and lazy about on her boat. The one the mayor had given to her after his tributes to a sea demon had been finished and paid. The peace of the ocean would lull the raging storm that was steadily building up within her.

She could feel it, her own dark rebellion pushing at her mind and blurring the lines between her realities. It was an inbuilt thing with her; no matter how nice that authority was, no matter how well you were treated, and how many pretty things you got bought, it was still the same thing. Someone who told you what to do, who controlled you how they saw fit. She knew she was a human weapon, created for the sole use of being used. She didn't know what it was, or why it was, but it was her weapon to use. And one day, maybe not right now, or in a week, but she would betray him. Just like she'd betrayed every authority figure that had ever crossed her path.

Shaking her head, she turned towards downtown. Tonight was not the night for the peace the open waves granted her, nor the time to be thinking such deep and meaningful thoughts, that the ocean would only call forth and bring screaming out of her. She didn't want to think tonight, just wanted to feel. It was easier that way; it was less painful that way.

In the Fishtank she danced, pressing her heated flesh against more than a number of guys and girls, smiling sweetly as the bartender handed over drink after drink of expensive alcohol, to someone he knew to be under the age.

Out on the dance floor, she twisted and turned, swayed and grinded. She owned the music, drowned in its simplicity and grinned at the way she controlled the attention of most people around her. There was something free and wild about her, untamed and untameable. Something passionate and willing, waiting and wanting to burst free in a flash flood of energy. But it never did. Because once she set it free, it's so much harder for her to cage again.

She was having fun, until some jock wannabe attempted to grab her ass, tried to force a kiss upon her ruby red lips. He should have known; you can't tangle with a predator and come away unharmed. She snapped his wrist, punching his female friend through into next week. She could feel a dark part of herself growling in satisfaction at her violence, grumbling around deep inside of herself, prowling, agitated for the kill.

She calmed it, and grinned in a feral way as a door of sweaty bodies opened up for her, as she made her way to the exit. She knew if the music was turned off, the silence would be thick, almost unmovable in its tension as they waited for her to make a move. At the unsuppressed need to see this violence through to its end, to find out who would end up on top.

But no one moved as she left the club, each of them instinctively knowing that she would _always_ come out on top. Covered in blood that was not her own, teeth bared in an animalistic grin, she would come out on top of a pile of bloodied and broken bodies. She would be the last image of beauty they would ever see. The last image of anything they would ever see. Beautiful and glowing in her ferocity.

The humid heat of the night slapped her in the face as she left. She could feel her guard, moving to his car, leaving her to her owns devices. She didn't even know why the mayor hired him. It wasn't as if she couldn't look after herself, not that he ever helped with anything anyway. Just watched.

She turned, walking back towards her apartment block to settle in for a night of playstation games and pizza, a grunt of surprise erupting out of her throat as a hand grabbed her around the bicep and spun her into the alley, slamming her back hard into the brick wall.

Before she even knew who it was, before she registered the scent of vanilla and fresh soap, she grinned. Only one person could ever exert that kind of force on a slayer when she didn't want to move. Only one person knew how hard they could throw a slayer into a wall, without breaking any bones. Only one person knew she frequently came here, often danced and drank the night away.

The shorter, blonde little firecracker snarled at her, her lips forming words that made no sense to the brunette, teeth showing in a dominant display of who controlled who, in this private game of cat and mouse that they had forced each other into playing.

She ignored the words, reaching up with startling speed, at the hand that was swinging in to slap her, and caught the wrist in her palm. The resounding smack of flesh hitting flesh shocked the shorter woman into shutting up, giving the brunette a few seconds to just… be. To look on her face and smile, a soft and relatively normal smile of someone who appreciated the beauty laid bare before her, of someone who wished this beauty could be had in the daytime hours of their lives. Except to them, their lives never tangled when the sun was up. That was the time to be enemies, to hate each other. To pretend.

With only a soft grunt escaping her lips, the brunette surged forward, her fingers not loosening her grip, and capturing the opposite hand in her own, pressing breasts up against breasts, before suddenly, almost too painfully, the blonde stopped. Slammed back into the opposite wall, their bodies locked hard into a steely embrace of each other.

She lifted her eyes, locking them with soft green, attempting to read something in them. Maybe something that could possibly pull her into the light once again, to let her walk in that which she had never really owned. Just endless shades of grey. But instead of waiting for an answer to her hidden question, she slowly moved forward, gently pressing her plump lips against the blondes, moving softly, slowly, almost lovingly as tongues stroked each other, as breath came in short gasps, as hands were released and fingers started to roam bodies.

Gently teasing naked flesh, rounding curves and rubbing over nipples. It was the blonde who broke away first, a hand rubbing slowly yet deliberately over her centre, pressing the seam of her jeans into her throbbing clit. She couldn't get enough breath into her body, couldn't muster enough strength to push into those fingers, to grind down into that hand. Just like it had always happened before. This was the brunette's dance, and one that she willingly followed.

A deep warmth spread through her lower stomach, a sea of quivering flesh left in its wake, as it tumbled and twisted through her body. Fire scorching through her veins as it pulled every coherent thought out of her mind. The muscles in her inner thighs were rhythmically clenching, her stomach shivering uncontrollably at the coil of delicious tension that had curled itself slowly in her belly. In a final burst of breathe, a moan escaped, deep and vibrating as it clambered through the alley, banging off the walls. The coil snapped, her back arching as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her flesh.

The brunette leaned forward, running her slightly open lips over exposed and sensitive neck flesh, breathing in the sent of apple shampoo and memorising the taste of her slightly damp skin, that tasted like sandalwood and salt.

After endless moments had passed, she leaned up, running her fingertips back through silken blonde hair and kissing her gently on the temple. Smiling softly at the satin texture of the skin there, wishing she had the time and the place to kiss and taste every single inch of her. But she didn't. She never would.

Because this is all they had; a dark alley, on a too warm night. In the shadows they surrendered to each other, released long-suffering passions and fell into each other, as if they were drowning, and the other was a lake of spring water.

"See you later." The brunette whispered, her lips brushing against the skin on her temple, her thumbs tracing the backs of her ears before she stepped away and removed her warmth. As she always did.

"Faith." The brunette stopped, closing her eyes and contemplating not turning around, not listening, not having to do anything but walk away. But she was helpless, and turned, just like she knew she would.

"Yeah?"

"Ditto." The brunette smiled sadly, words from such a long time ago ringing in her head. _'Hey, I know it's corny, but if you love me, I'd rather you said ditto, like from that film 'Ghost'. Cause then the words won't loose meaning.'_ She'd never thought she'd ever have the blonde repeating that little word to her. One that meant nothing to everyone else but meant everything to her.

"I know, ditto back." She could feel the small knot of tears in the back of her throat, like she always did. "But Buffy.. it's just not enough."

Her voice broke, the tear she had been trying to hold on to leapt free and ran down her smooth and flawless skin, a trail of black eyeliner framing it's decent. Because now, after so much pain, and so much violence and betrayal, it wasn't enough. Maybe it could have been, way back when, maybe maybe maybe.

As slayers they walked the fine line between the darkness and the light. Being of the light, and yet killing as if from the dark. All it took was one mistake to hurl them head long into the path of darkness. Faith had slipped, and she had fallen.

And Buffy was just a split second too late to save her.

Without another word, the brunette turned, plastering her self important, smug grin back onto her face, wiping away the tear and eyeliner track with the back of her hand, and exiting the alley. She didn't stop, didn't halt, didn't hesitate.

Didn't notice the blonde woman, as she leaned against the mouth of the alley, fist clenched to her heart, silent sobs making her body shudder, jerk and quiver. Tears rushing down her face like the drops from a waterfall, her eyes seeing what she wanted, only could never have.

Faith didn't watch, couldn't watch. As she knew Buffy's heart was breaking all over again.


	6. We Build Our Own Cages

**We Build Our Own Cages**

For some reason the room looked somehow dirty, covered in shadows that lingered in corners long after the lights where turned on. A small bedside lamp was on, its low wattage bulb giving out as much light as it could muster, it being enough and never enough, all at the same time.

"You never stay." Her words shattered the silence, as I bent over and started to lace up my boots. My back turned towards her, like it always is whenever it's time for me to leave. And I always leave. What is there to stay for?

What could I possibly say to her to make her understand that I simply just can't stay with her. To force myself into staying the night in her bed, with her, with her limbs tangled with mine, would remind me of a time and place that I try so hard to forget. To blur the memories so I can at least try to simulate living.

But it never works. I will never forget what it felt like to curl up into her arms, to forget the reality that was a constant hammer to my mind. The memories of waking up in her arms, to seeing her sleep ridden face and soft body smiling down at me, will remain with me until my time has run out.

When I die, her face will be the last thing I ever see. Even if it's just a memory.

"I have to go." I move onto the other set of laces, carefully pulling each row tight, before winding the laces around the back of my ankle and making a small bowed knot at the front. My back pops softly as I straighten, my eyes flickering over the everlasting darkness that is her bedroom, to try and find my wife beater, to try and place my jacket and my keys. A memory of me dumping the jacket on the apartment sofa, the keys still safely tucked inside the pocket, flashes through my mind.

Pulling myself from the bed, I move towards the corner of the room, where my wife beater was thrown hours before. I can feel her eyes on me. Penetrating my skin, causing my muscles to work themselves into tight knots of apprehension.

"You don't. You could stay right here. With me." I look at her over my shoulder, watching her stretch out on the bed and pat the side she isn't currently occupying. And somewhere inside of me, I feel a tug, a pull for a compassion that I crave like a drug that hasn't worked its way out of my system yet. Maybe it never will.

But I know that the compassion, the nights wrapped up in a warm embrace, belong to her. They always will belong to her. There's nothing I can do about that now.

If I could turn back the time, go back to those few precious moments when everything was starting off, when my emotions and feelings came into startling focus, I would have chosen the other road. Because then I would never feel for her, what I do, and she wouldn't have felt what she did for me either. I would deny myself her forever, if only I didn't have to feel this way.

Despondent, alone. Trapped in a world of my own making.

If I could go back, I'd change it all, because you can't crave what you've never known. And if I change it, maybe I'll never remember what it was like to belong to her, to know her like no one else on the planet ever had. To see what she was trying to say, without her ever having to voice a single word.

Shaking my head, I look down at the top in my hands, watching them shake softly as I tried to turn it back the right way around, to find the hole through which I'd put my head.

But my eyes aren't seeing my clothing, or my hands, they see her. In startling technicolor, in motion, with a smile. With a groan of tiredness as I drag her from store to store. Of the goose bumps that worked themselves all over her torso. Or how she ate a subway, of the expression on her face when she watched the tattoo artist work, of the blood that streamed freely from my body.

And all I can hear is my breathing, loud in my ears, blocking out anything else that I would have heard. Breathe. _Breathe for me._ Breathe.

"Faith?" her voice shattered the prison, bringing me back to the neat, minimalist bedroom that I had just spent hours trying to forget her in, even if it didn't work. I felt dirty, unclean, soiled. Because I'd thrown away the solution to those feelings. With her, I'd stopped feeling like that a long time ago. I'd stopped blaming myself. But I was just kidding myself.

She couldn't know what was going on. And as soon as I lost her, I felt the dirt crawling back all over my skin. Huge areas of blackness all over me that I couldn't wash away, that I couldn't scratch off of me.

"Faith?" I turned my head again, looking at her stood just behind me, wrapped in a terrycloth robe that drowned her, and I felt a sudden rush of fondness for her. I couldn't love her. But I could like her, if only a little bit.

"What?"

"I was talking to you, and you just weren't answering." I shrugged, finally having my top the right way around, and pulling it on over my head, shoving my arms through the holes meant for them, and yanking it down my body, to sit snugly against my skin, to trail slightly down over my pants.

I looked like the word 'bad' personified. 

"What did you say?" I felt her fingertips running up my back, over my shoulder as she came to stand in front of me. The smell of her hair infected my mind, curling itself around my senses, and bringing my world down into a pinpoint of this beautiful brunette woman in front of me. Begging me to stay the night with her.

"I asked you what this is. And then I said that you should take it off sometimes. Cause it gets in the way, you know?" there was a twinkle in her eyes, as she reached up and closed her fingers around the item that was hanging off of a light silver chain around my neck.

"Let go." My voice rumbled out of my chest, dark and low, full of a kind of danger I knew she would never believe lives inside of me. She didn't move, she smirked at me more. "I'm going to tell you one more time Jess, and then I'm gonna get testy. Get. The fuck. Off."

She snapped her hand back, letting the comforting weight of the ring bang into my chest, hitting against the red raw ring in my skin, causing me to sigh at the flash of sudden pain that rang through my body at its contact. I had pushed against the ring so hard, a circle of raw, bloodied flesh now lay beneath the white gold that should be on my finger, instead of carving a design into my chest.

She bought me that ring months before all of this badness started. To sit on my finger as a gentle reminder of exactly who it was that I belonged to. I never took it off, wearing it when I slept, when I showered, when I breathed. The first hours when I finally did take it off were strange, leaving me with a hollow feeling inside. My hand felt too light without its comforting weight to remind me of her.

"Wha.." my hand snapped out, grabbing the side of her neck and squeezing, causing her to gasp at the tightness of my grip. I stepped close to her, bringing my lips to her ear, and I knew that there was no way she wouldn't feel the tension rolling off me, the rage. The fury at her action.

"If you ever, ever touch that ring again, I swear to god jess, it will the last thing you ever do. Do you understand me?" I waited for her head to nod before I let her go. Turning around I strode across the bedroom, unmindful of the clothing that splattered the floor. I slammed open the door, crossing to the sofa and picking up my jacket, before I looked back towards her room. She was stood in the doorway, her hand massaging the side of her neck as she looked at me with something akin to sorrow and fear.

She didn't know why I never stayed, or why she should never touch that ring, why I never took it off. But she could hazard a guess.

I looked away from her, towards the window and the pitch-black sky that held no stars in them for me tonight.

"I'll call you." I said, no emotion showing in my voice, or my face, as I crossed towards the front door.

"Ok." Her whisper rung out across the room to me, sounding impossibly loud in the silence as I pulled open the door.

A moment before I pulled the door shut behind me, I stopped, looking back over my shoulder for a moment before flicking my eyes forwards again.

"I'm sorry about your neck."

I closed the door softly behind me, a part of me promising never to return here. Telling me to go to the one place, the one person, who would always make me feel wanted, who would understand me without asking. To the one place that I knew I was always meant to be.

But the rest of me knew I'd return.

Because me and B? Our place could never be in the daytime hours. And I so desperately wanted to see her in the sun.


	7. Masquerade

**Masquerade**

Buffy is standing at the door, all red leather and long blonde hair. Faith's reading The Last Day, flipping the pages but only really concentrating on the art work, not the words. Never the words, they mean shit anyway. The actions are what interest her.

"Thought I'd stop by." Buffy ejects the cd, placing it back into its case. Faith has made a study of people. Their facial expressions, their body language, the tones they use when they talk. Everything about people fascinates her. She can know any person she meets after just ten minutes with them. Can read them better than anyone she's ever met. She knows some things about Buffy that she doubts even the little blonde knows.

"Anything I can help you with?" she continues flipping the pages, her eyes skimming over the images as she tries to ignore the presence standing in the middle of her apartment.

"Few questions I guess." She drops the comic to the bed, stretching before meeting Buffy's eyes, seeing the twinkle in them. Oh yeah, Faith knows this one. Words full of goodness, of virtue. Of a hero. But her body screams with violence and rage, of places teenaged girls shouldn't dream of when they sleep. Of things they shouldn't do when darkness falls.

"Shoot." She pulls herself to the edge of the bed, reaching underneath and grabbing the duffle bag that's been sitting there, ready and waiting until this moment, this second right here. She stands, tossing the duffle over her shoulder and nodding towards the window behind her. In silence they turn up the small walkway, and Buffy hands her the cd she took from the stereo.

"This gonna hurt?" Faith shrugs as she pulls open the windows, stepping out onto the roof and waiting for Buffy to join her. The sun has just about given up its hold over the sky, submitting it to the moon as it gently drops down below the horizon.

"Dunno. Maybe." They walk towards the northern edge and Faith leans over, looking down at the truck that's parked there. Nods at Giles as he stands beside it, looking awfully stupid in custom trucker wear. Flannel shirts and baggy jeans don't suit him, and Faith can tell by the frown on his face that he hates wearing it almost as much as she hates seeing him wear it.

"Do you think he'll figure it out?" Faith turns back to Buffy, locking eyes with her and gracing her with one of her small, custom smirks.

"Doubt it. Dick ain't so full up in here," she taps the side of her head with a finger tip, her smirk widening as Buffy stands closer. "If you know what I mean." She drops her hand over Buffy's head, draping her arm over the blonde's shoulders and pulling her into a crushing hug. One that tells the blonde to not hurt her too much. To remember her when this is over. To find her when she's been lost for long enough. "Guy's too chock full of cheer to think such nasty, under handed things are going on behind his back." Buffy nods, pulling away and sniffling. "Hey. Non'a that. It'll be done in no time, it'll all be over, and then I'll be home again." she wipes a tear from Buffy's cheek with her thumb and kisses it from her skin.

"There should be a better way." Faith shrugs, carefully tossing her duffle bag over the roof, watching it's decent as it lands without hardly a sound, in the flat bed of the truck.

"Yeah, but he knows I won't go down without a fight. It's gotta be this way." She turns back to Buffy and gestures back inside the apartment. "I got one of his lackey's locked up in the closet in there. Let him out and have a good rumble. Try throwing him through the window, it'll make for a more dramatic ending." Buffy nods and takes a step back. "You ready?"

Silently Buffy reaches behind her back and pulls out the knife. Faith's knife. She doesn't want to do this, it's written across her entire face. But she's the only one that can do it. Not another person they know has the strength to push a blade through the body of a slayer. Too hard, to strong, too built to withstand it all.

"Ok then. Give us a kiss." Buffy smirks, lifting her eyes to meet Faith's, and finally Faith can see what the blonde has been avoiding all night; an apology. I'm sorry for having to do this. I'm sorry for making you think I didn't care. I'm sorry for getting you to play double agent to a demon. I'm just so sorry.

She leans forward, standing up straight to match Faith's height and presses her lips softly, yet solidly, against the brunette's. Not the first kiss. Maybe the last if this didn't work out like it was supposed to.

And then she felt it, the coolness of the blade as it brushed her side, as Buffy searched for the area that would cause the less damage, yet would bleed the most. The blonde was trembling until finally Faith took hold of her wrist, keeping their lips locked together so as to not break her hold on Buffy's arm. A change of direction, a sharp movement and it was done.

Buffy staggered backwards, her hand releasing the knife and leaving it there, sticking out of Faith's side like a hood ornament. Looking down Faith watches as the crimson tide soaked through her top, covering her clothes and skin with the warmth of her blood. There was so much of it, and it didn't seem to want to stop.

"Come on, help me up." Her voice sounded huskier than it was a few moments ago. But then, she didn't have a knife sticking out of her then. They struggled to get her on the ledge, and even through the haze of her blood loss, she could hear Giles' gasp from five stories below. "You did it B." a small trickle of blood came out of her mouth, causing Buffy's tears to run faster. Maybe she'd nicked her stomach. Oh well, wouldn't matter in a few anyway. "Who knew the word 'Ditto' could change so much?"

"Faith.." she teetered toward the edge, praying she was gonna land in the truck and not the pavement below.

"Gotta go girlfriend. Quite a ride huh?" she coughed, bringing up more blood as her face drained of all color. "Catch you later B."

And then she was gone. Feeling free as the entire universe tumbled faster around her, and as she passed out, she saw Buffy's face appear over the side of the roof, tears glistening over her smooth skin, her eyes begging for a time rewind.

She heard, more than felt, the huge cracking sound her body made as it hit the flatbed, and knew, as blessed darkness swallowed her, that she was gonna hurt when she woke up.


	8. Of Shared Dreams

**Of Shared Dreams**

"Nearly that time." She stood next to her bed, looking out through the broken window. Her stuff was scattered everywhere, boxes piled here and there and her cat. Roaming free around the apartment and wondering why her mistress hadn't changed her litter box in almost eight months.

"About damn time you mean." Buffy sat on the bed, her back resting against the wall as she looked at the sun, same as Faith.

"Something like that. You guys missed me?" she could feel Buffy's smirk, even though she wasn't watching.

"Something like that."

"You gonna be there?" Faith turned, looking at her blonde counterpart and tucking her hands into her pockets.

"Already there." She stood, walking to where Faith was standing and looking down at her stomach. "You ever gonna take that thing out?" Faith looked at the knife, still plunged deeply into her body and shrugged.

"I kinda like it. It's my war wound." Buffy smirked, glancing behind her towards the open door, as if she could hear someone calling for her.

"I gotta.."

"I get it. Little sister's coming. Lots to do. Little miss muffet counting down from seven-three-oh." she reached up and cupped the side of Buffy's face, smirking into the hazel vista she found waiting there for her.

"Being dead didn't stop you talking in riddles."

"Nothing ever will. You ready?" Buffy nodded, tilting her head upwards to receive the kiss that'd sent her back to reality with a jolt.


	9. Living At Least

**Living At Least**

"You realise the implications of this right?" Buffy awoke to the sounds of Willow and Giles talking. "Crossing those two herbs will ultimately.."

"Don't you guys _ever_ shut up?" Faith's husky voice rang through the room, startling everyone but Buffy. They didn't know this was happening. Buffy got it straight from the source.

"Welcome back."

"Yeah, but I miss my war wound."

"You've been awake for maybe a minute." Faith sat up in the bed, pulling herself upwards to lean against the pillows as she smirked at the blonde.

"Well I had that thing for eight months. Feels like I lost an arm."

"Well I've still got it. Could put it back if you wanted." The eyebrows on Faith's face nearly shot off her forehead. She shook her head.

"Guess I'm livin' without it."

"But you're living at least."

"I do try."

"You're very trying."

"Hey!"


	10. Ready

**Ready?**

The world spun and shifted around her, images dropping away like liquid crystal, bleeding back into her subconscious as she re-joined the waking world. The room was completely dark, not even a shimmer of the moon broke through the heavy curtain in the room. She wondered where everyone was, wondered when the sounds of bodies pleasuring bodies faded into the darkness.

Wondered where the body that had pleasured her own had disappeared to.

"Didn't think you'd be awake so soon." And there she was now. Standing back in the shadows of the room, next to one of the windows, peeking around the curtains to look at the darkness that the night had to offer. Darkness that was no longer safe for a slayer to be out in. Not with the uber vamps and the First roaming freely, just waiting to pick them off one by one.

"Need a bell for your neck." She could feel Buffy's smirk through the darkness, feel the tingling of the blonde's presence as it twirled around the room.

"Been taking stealth lessons from Spike." The blonde said without looking away from the window.

"Where's everyone?"

"Sleeping. Must've tired themselves out." Faith smirked, sitting up in the bed and letting the sheets fall down and pool in her lap, showing Buffy her smooth, porcelain skin with a smirk.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I'm not the one that passed out." Faith raised an eyebrow and smirked more. No, probably true. She did pass out, but then, who knew that the little blonde could be so vicious and thirsty in bed?

"You gotta plan." It wasn't a question, but a statement of truth. She could read Buffy like an open book, could see the violence that tainted her soul, the singing of her blood in a fight. Knew what kept the slayer awake on nights just like this one, when the exhaustion of sex should have knocked her clean out.

"They always go where the power is. Caleb said it was the seal."

"But he ain't staying there. He's somewhere else."

"He's where the power is. They _**always**_ go where the power is." Buffy pushed away from the wall, removing her dressing gown as she approached the bed, offering up her naked flesh to Faith's hungry eyes.

"Recon?" she crawled up the bed, smirking as she straddled her lover's waist, wrapping her arms around her neck and twisting her fingers into tangled brunette hair.

"Recon. But not right now." Faith leaned back on her hands, her smirk re-appearing as she took in the look in Buffy's eyes.

"You ready?"

"Aren't I always?"


	11. Just Let It All Go

**Just Let It All Go**

"Go. Get out while you can. I'll be fine."

"You're on fire dude."

"Astute observation Faith. "

"We can't leave you here Spike." He smiled at her, his fingers tightening against each other as he held on for his dear undead life. He just needed to hold it a little while longer, just a few more minutes to let them get far enough out.

"We gotta B. William, pleasure knowing you." Faith nodded at him, grabbing Buffy's wrist and literally yanking her up the stairs.

"You take good care of her firecracker!" he could hear her laugh as they disappeared out of the seal. The last things he heard were their foot falls, as they pounded out of the building until he finally, with a deep breath, let it all go.


	12. Evolution

**Evolution**

**Authors Notes:** This is it guys; the final chapter. Done. Hope you all enjoyed reading it because I greatly enjoyed writing it. And as always; please review. It is the last part after all..

The incessant ringing broke through her dreams, forcing her to awaken once more. "Turn it off."

"You set it." Buffy sounded far too awake for this time in the morning. Rolling over, Faith spotted that she was actually dressed, sitting on the bed reading a book.

"You are _**so**_ wrong." She dropped a pillow over her face and muttered some expletives towards Buffy, who finally shut off the alarm.

"And yet so right. Come on, we gotta go. Giles called a council meeting."

"Still don't see why I gotta go." She threw back the covers and wandered into the bathroom, turning on the shower as she stripped herself of the shorts she managed to put on last night, before she passed out in a drunken haze.

"You're the leader of the slayer division. Who else is gonna go?"

"Don't see why I got the job when you're here."

"Quite happy just being a trainer thanks."

"Some slayers get all the luck." Buffy appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jam as she smiled at the naked wet Faith in the shower.

"Some slayer's aren't slayers anymore either." Faith brushed water out of her eyes and smirked at the blonde.

"Forgot you were too old now." A towel slapped her in the butt and she turned to see Buffy stood there smirking in triumph.

"You know it didn't happen like that."

"Yeah yeah, big evil, big mojo. You lost half of your power. Whatever. You're such a faker."

"Not my fault they fell for it."

"You are evil and not to be trusted."

"But you still love me."

"Always will."

"Good. Let's go."

"Can't play hooky?"

"Not unless you wanna be taken off active duty for a month or so."

"I forgot you were a watcher now too."

"Don't forget I can still kick your ass."

"Whatever Miss 'half power'."

"It's all just evolution."

"How's that?"

"My power started all this. Seems fitting that my power should finally get to rest."

"Evolution of a slayer? Sounds like a book title."

"You never know.."


End file.
